


Rift Mages

by Alisienna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisienna/pseuds/Alisienna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leda Surana enjoys time spent away from the watchful eyes of the Templars with her friends in the "rift", the small hideway they've found in the labrynth that hides behind the walls of Kinloch Hold. But her growing feelings for a new Templar recruit threaten not only herself but also her friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doodling Griffons

**Author's Note:**

> Set Pre-Origins and takes some liberties with the timeline at the beginning of the game. Leda Surana belongs to noctuaalba.tumblr.com.

Alisa grabbed Leda’s elbow as they left the classroom. “Are you coming to the rift tonight?” she hissed, careful to keep her voice low. They both ducked their heads as they passed a pair of Templars in the hallway. Leda waited until they passed them before answering.

“I don’t know, I have a lot of work to do in the library…” she said, voice trailing off as she stuffed her books and paper back into the satchel that hung from her shoulder.

Alisa snorted. “Gonna draw more griffons and leave them in random books?”

“How did you know about that?” Leda exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. She had thought that even if her drawings were found, no one would know where they came from.

“Oh, come on, Leda,” Alisa said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that hard to figure out who drew them, especially when I’ve seen your sketches before.” She cocked her head to one side and eyed Leda suspiciously. “I don’t get it. Why leave them laying around or stuffed in books of prayers?”

Leda’s ears twitched in embarrassment. She shoved her hair back with both hands, hoping the movement of her hands would distract attention from her ears. She hated being an elf, sometimes. Too much of what she was thinking was written on her face already; why did her Maker-forsaken _ears_ have to betray her too? “I…I don’t know how to explain it, Alisa. Maybe they will make someone’s day better?”

“The only person whose day it affects is the Tranquil responsible for keeping the library clean.” Alisa shook her head, then shrugged. “Whatever. No griffons tonight, though. Jowan told me he’s got ahold of a deck of cards. We’re going to play Wicked Grace!” She took an apple out of her own satchel and bit down. The fruit crunched in her mouth, slightly muffling the next words. “You have to come. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Leda frowned at her. “Alisa. You don’t even know how to play Wicked Grace. None of us do,” she said, voice flat. “The Chantry frowns on gambling. Hence, no cards allowed here.”

Alisa elbowed her, still munching on her apple. “Don’t be such a spoil-sport! Anders knows! He spent loads of time outside the circle before he came here. He can teach us.”

“Hmmm.” Leda’s frown deepened, her brow furrowing.

“What now?” Alisa demanded.

Leda shook her head. “I don’t like that Anders. He’s trouble. You shouldn’t have told him about our space.”

Now it was Alisa’s turn to frown. “He’s not trouble. He just gets _into_ trouble. A lot. But he’s Karl’s friend, and he’s my friend, Leda, same as you.” Her expression turned sorrowful. “He doesn’t have many friends.”

“Well, he might have more if he stopped trying to run away every two days,” Leda said. “I’m all for dodging the Chantry’s stupid restrictions, but going to extremes like he does just makes everything worse for all of us. The Enchanters –“

“Don’t ever do _anything_ to change things, even though they talk about it every chance they get!” Alisa interrupted, her voice getting heated. She stopped walking and turned to face Leda, stopping the smaller girl in her tracks. Alisa grabbed hold of Leda’s elbow again, the hand holding her apple hanging down to one side, forgotten. “At least Anders _does something,_ tries to change things for himself.”

“Exactly, he’s out for himself,” Leda shot back, her tone hushed. She shrugged Alisa’s hand off her elbow. “And keep your voice down. If we’re heard fighting then none of us will get to play cards tonight.” Leda pushed past the other girl and continued walking, even though she wasn’t sure where she was going to go. It didn’t much matter, though. “Hey, you ever notice how the hallways are all circles?”

Alisa trotted up next to her and then matched her pace again. “What?”

“The hallways. They’re circles,” Leda said. “Circles…in the Circle.” She glanced over at Alisa and grinned.

Alisa groaned. “By the Maker, Surana. Hey! Don’t change the subject!”

Leda shook her head. “There’s no subject to change, Amell. Your friend is trouble, and he would sell us out in two heartbeats if he thought it would help him get ahead.”

“He wouldn’t! He’s not like that,” Alisa protested. Then she sighed. “Look, Leda, you trust me, right?”

Leda stopped walking. “Of course, Alisa” she replied. She pushed her hair behind her ears again, meeting the other girl’s green-glass eyes with her own. “You shouldn’t have needed to ask that,” she said seriously.

Alisa’s eyes darted to the side, then back. “I know. Please. If you trust me, just give him a chance?”

They stared at each other like that for a long moment. Finally, Leda sighed. “Alright. Not much I can do about it now, anyway, since he already knows where we go.” She shrugged her satchel back  up on to her shoulder. “I really do have work to get done, though, so I’m going to the library first.”

Alisa followed her. “I’ll help! We can get it done faster.”

“No!” Leda said quickly. Alisa looked at her, one eyebrow cocked.  “No,” Leda said again, more gently this time. “Sorry. I mean, I will get it done faster alone, I think. It’s mostly research.”

“Hmph. Have it your way,” Alisa replied. She took another bite out of the previously-forgotten apple. “See you later?”

“Sure, normal time,” Leda said.

Alisa turned and started walking in the other direction _. Probably going back to her dorm to take a nap_ , Leda thought, shaking her head. She made her way to the library and, finding it empty, sat down at her usual table. Leda loved the library, probably above all the other rooms in the tower she called her home. It always smelled so wonderful in the way that only very old libraries can, wood smoke and glue and old paper all mingling together to create a scent that just inspired one to read and to learn all one could. She had spent many of her happiest hours in this room, drawing or reading or writing. It was an escape of sorts, a way to pretend for a little while that she wasn’t a tiny elf mage girl locked in a tower in the middle of a lake, powerless and unimportant. Instead, she was a powerful archmage leading the Dalish rebellion, or a Grey Warden, riding a griffon into battle with fire in her eyes and ice shooting from her fingertips.

It was good to forget, even if only for an afternoon.

It was odd no one else was here, in the middle of the afternoon, but Leda appreciated the solitude. It was something one got so rarely living in the Circle, especially as an apprentice. She wouldn’t rate her own room until she reached the level of at least enchanter. For now, she had one of many beds in a large room full of other female apprentices. Privacy was yet another right denied them because of the way they were born.

Leda’s thoughts drifted back to Alisa’s plea. Anders seemed a nice enough person, but he just needed to show some restraint. She understood and shared his frustrations, so she supposed she could give him some leeway, at least for a while. For Alisa’s sake. The human girl had always been there for her since they were children, defending her from the other human mage children who had made fun of her ears and her small stature. Leda smiled to herself. Alisa had befriended her when she was friendless and alone. Could she really be upset with her for doing the same thing with Anders?

And then there was Karl. He liked Anders. And Leda liked and trusted Karl; he was always so steady, so reasonable. Maybe he would be good for Anders, calm him down, direct his fervor down a more reasoned and effective path.

Then again, maybe not. Maybe it would go the other way, and Anders would push Karl into actions both ill-considered and dangerous.

Leda sighed and tried to force her attention back to her books. It was apparently not a good afternoon for studying, however, as she soon found herself doodling in the margins of her notes again. She chuckled a little and pulled out a fresh scrap of paper and began to draw in earnest. Might as well go with it. It might help clear her head.

“What’s funny?” A hesitant, smooth baritone voice spoke behind her. Leda jumped in surprise and turned around to find one of the Templars assigned to guard this floor of the tower, standing behind her. How far into her own thoughts had she been, that he was able to sneak up on her like that in the full armor the Templars were required to wear every day?

“Oh, um, nothing, really,” Leda stammered in reply, cheeks blushing. She pushed her hair forward over her – _again_ – twitching ears. “Just thinking to myself.”

To her surprise, the Templar’s cheeks started to turn red as well. “Oh, I apologize. I shouldn’t have disturbed you…” His voice grew softer and trailed off, and his right hand moved up to rub his neck, an awkward gesture.

Leda’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. _Why in all of Thedas is a Templar acting nervous? Is this a test? Is he frightened of me?_ Well, in either case, she might as well play into it. “No, you shouldn’t have,” she said, voice cold. She turned back to her drawing.

He coughed. “Um, well, I just was wondering…” Leda could hear him make an effort to steady his voice. “I was wondering if you might assist me? Since you spend so much time here.”

Leda turned back around in her chair, both eyebrows raised in shock. “You. You want my help. With what, exactly?”

“Oh, finding a book. Guard duty is terribly boring sometimes.” The Templar’s mouth curled up in a lopsided grin. “Good on you mages, being so well-behaved,” he said. He was obviously trying to make a joke, but Leda didn’t laugh. She just narrowed her eyes at him again.

“Well, we have to behave, don’t we? Or we die. Or get locked away. Or worse,” Leda said, her voice steely with a lifetime of resentment. Suddenly, she was more sympathetic to Anders’ point of view.

The knight’s eyes widened and his blush deepened. “Oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. Of course.” The hand rubbed his neck again. “I didn’t mean…I don’t know what I meant. Please, just…forget I said anything.” He turned away to leave.

Leda rolled her eyes. He might have been a Templar, but he was clearly not _actively_ trying to make her day worse. She still couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous, though. Leda stood up from her chair. “Wait,” she said, resigned. “What kind of book were you wanting to read?”

The Templar turned back to her, a sunny and somewhat sheepish grin on his face. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Leda found herself grinning back – his smile was infectious. And she had to admit, he was more than a little handsome. His strong features were framed by a square jawline that was covered with just a shadow of stubble, which probably made him look older than he actually was. A mop of blond curls that was surprisingly more unruly than her own rebellious hair on its worst day covered his head, long enough to cover the tops of his ears and drift down his collar. Most striking, though, were his eyes. They were the color of honey in summertime, and radiated the kind of honest warmth she had rarely seen in a Templar -- or in anyone living in this cursed tower, for that matter. The quip she’d had ready died on her lips as she decided to go easy on him. “I promise,” she said.

He nodded his thanks, seeming more at ease. “Well, I’ve found myself more and more curious about griffons, of late.”

Leda started in surprise, and hurriedly tried to compose her features into an expression of polite attentiveness. “Oh?”

“Yes. Do you know which books would have more information about them?”

“Um…” Leda bit her lip as she considered. “Have you tried looking in Brother Genetivi’s volumes? He is the premiere historian of the last generation. I seem to recall his writing about the griffons used by the Grey Wardens in the Blights.”

The Templar nodded. “There wasn’t much there. Apparently, there isn’t much information about the griffons outside of the Grey Warden’s own records, and they keep those at their fortress in the Anderfels.” He frowned. “I suppose there isn’t much here, then, is there?”

Leda shook her head. “Not really, no. Unless you want to read children’s fables and fireside tales.” She regarded him curiously. “So. Why griffons?”

“What?”

“Why griffons?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying the Chant and devoting yourself to prayer?”

“You’ve got me confused with a Chantry sister. Or one of the clerics.” He grinned again. “I have studied the Chant, -- quite extensively, in fact. But I’m not bound to it exclusively. The Templar Order educates their recruits in many subjects other than religion.”

Her eyebrow climbed a little higher. “Really? And here I thought you were all mindless brutes.”

The Templar seemed embarrassed at that. “Well, certainly there are some in the Order who act like that. And I understand why you’ve only seen the worst of us.” His chin lifted in youthful pride. “Hopefully, I will be different.”

“How did you become a Templar?” Leda asked.

“I joined when I was thirteen. I had always admired the Order and what it stood for, and I wanted to make a difference, somehow.” He blushed again and looked down. “Silly, I suppose.”

“Not silly, exactly. Maybe a little naïve,” Leda replied. “So you chose this life.”

He frowned. “Yes, I did,” he answered her not-exactly-a-question, tone careful.

Leda nodded. “Even though you knew what you would be doing. That you would be a Chantry watchdog, an symbol of fear and oppression.”

The Templar visibly bristled at her words. “No, I chose the Order because even though it has its flaws, it’s a holy calling.” He spread his hands. “And how else will the Order change, unless those who see its flaws attempt to fix them from within?”

Leda’s brow furrowed, and she could feel the tips of her ears growing hot with anger. “Oh? You’re going to fix the Chantry? All by yourself?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You were right. You are silly.” She turned back to the table and started gathering her things, angrily stuffing paper and books into her satchel. Leda wasn’t sure why she had gotten so angry so quickly; it was unusual for her. But at that moment she wanted nothing more than to leave.

“Wait! I’m sorry, I –“ the Templar started to say.

“I hope you find what you were looking for,” Leda cut him off, her tone icy but polite. She’d be damned if she’d give him an excuse to have her disciplined. “Good afternoon.”

She left the library in a hurry, not noticing that the drawing she’d been working on had fallen out of her satchel and onto the floor. She didn’t look back, either. If she had, she might’ve seen the Templar reach out and pick the drawing up, smoothing out the wrinkles in the paper and folding it carefully before putting in his pocket. She might’ve seen his sad smile as he did so, and the way his shoulders slumped slightly as he returned to his duty, and she might’ve felt more sorry for him than she already did.


	2. Wicked Grace

“Alright,” Anders drawled. “Here’s the thing. In order to play this game, you have to leave your morals and your sense of propriety at the door.” He waggled his eyebrows to underscore the point, the gesture exaggerated so as to be seen in the dim light. The five of them – Leda, Alisa, Karl, Anders, and Jowan – were all seated in more or less a circle on the floor of the tiny, damp space. Anders had found an old crate to sit on, and Karl was seated at his feet, leaning back against his legs.

They were gathered in their special place, nicknamed “the rift.” It was actually an abandoned storage closet that had been walled over at some point during the tower’s long history. Alisa and Leda had found it several months ago when they had just been moved to new dormitories and classrooms on the tower’s third level. Getting lost on your way to class sometimes had advantages. The room was small, barely big enough for all of them to fit, and they had smuggled in spare pillows and old blankets to make it a little more cozy. They also took turns maintaining a mage light spell on the ceiling while they were gathered there, eliminating the risk of someone smelling smoke while passing in the hallway. The room could only be reached by slipping into an innocuous-looking crack in the hall and squeezing oneself down what was probably once a narrow service corridor, but they couldn’t be too careful. The punishments for being out of bed after curfew were fairly severe.

Leda squinted at her hand, five brilliantly illustrated playing cards bearing images of serpents and angels, kings and knights. Even in the dim light she could appreciate the time and attention of detail put into the pictures. Where had Jowan managed to get these, and how?

“So. Let me get this straight. We try to match cards until someone draws the Angel of Death,” Alisa said. She was sitting between Leda and Karl.

Anders nodded. “Right.”

“But anyone can draw it and hold it until they get a good hand,” Alisa continued.

“Yes. But that’s cheating, technically,” Anders replied, touching one finger to the side of his nose and winking. He had a rather large nose, Leda thought uncharitably. She thought it made his face look unbalanced. His shaggy mop of shoulder-length blond hair didn’t improve his appearance.

“That seems to be the best way to win the game,” Alisa protested.

“Only if you don’t get caught!” Karl chimed in.

Jowan laughed and elbowed Leda in the ribs. “You’re going to be terrible at this,” he said, grinning. “You’re an _awful_ liar.”

Leda scowled at him. “Maybe I just don’t like lying, so I don’t do it often,” she said, her tone imperious. “Maybe I’m saving all my really good lies to use for a good cause. And I can think of no better cause than bleeding your purse dry.” She said that last with a sweet, disarming smile.

Alisa snorted. “Jowan, you’d better watch yourself. She’s dangerous when you get on her bad side. You weren’t around in our first enchanting class when she turned that girl’s hair bright green for laughing at her ears.”

Leda blushed. “That was an accident!”

“Oh, right, sure. I forgot,” Alisa said, rolling her eyes. She tossed her long bangs out of her eyes and scowled at her cards. “Okay, so who goes first?”

“Well, normally the player to the left of the dealer. Since I dealt for you, we’ll count Karl as being to my left.” He grinned down at the other mage and patted his shoulder. Leda noticed his hand lingered a beat longer than necessary, long fingers stroking the cloth of Karl’s robes affectionately. _None of my business, I guess_ , Leda thought. She forced herself to pay attention to the game.

They continued into the wee hours of the night, laughing and enjoying one another’s company. Leda won several hands of Wicked Grace (mostly against Jowan, much to his chagrin), but gave back all the pennies she’d taken from everyone at the end of the night. She even grudgingly admitted to Alisa in a whisper that Anders “wasn’t that bad.” She hadn’t changed her mind about not wanting him there in the first place, but now that he was she decided there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Eventually, they began their ritual “closing of the rift,” folding up the blankets and stacking them neatly with the pillows behind some of the crates. Then they each took turns edging their way down the small hallway and out into the main corridor, slowly and one at a time so as to not attract attention. Alisa, Jowan, and Karl left first, leaving just Leda and Anders in the room. Leda began ducking out of the room to leave when Anders grabbed her arm.

“A moment, please?” he asked quietly. Leda searched his eyes. She didn’t detect any ill intention, but shrugged off his hand as she turned back to face him. She nodded for him to speak.

“I know you don’t like me,” Anders began. Leda started to protest, but he held up a hand to stall her. “It’s fine. I don’t like me much either,” he said with a rueful smile. “But I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes,” Anders nodded. “You could have pushed me out. You could have refused to give me a chance. But you didn’t. And I…” He trailed off, searching for words. Leda was quiet while he thought for a moment. “I’m not used to not being judged out of hand. I’m certainly not used to having…friends. Especially friends like Karl.”

Leda arched a slender brow. Anders chuckled. “You noticed that? Well, I guess I need to be more subtle.” He coughed awkwardly, then continued. “Anyway, what I was trying to say was that I appreciate you. For letting me come here. For sharing your friends.”

Leda shook her head. “They are my friends, but I don’t own them.”

“Still. They think highly of you. If you had pushed the issue…well, if they had to choose one of us, it would be you.” He said it without malice, a simple statement of fact. “I hope I can earn your trust.”

Leda smiled faintly. “Try not to get in trouble, and bring the Templars down on us, and you’ll have it.”

Anders grinned. “Deal. I haven’t come up with a better escape plan yet, anyways.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender when Leda gave him a dark look. “Kidding, kidding!” He extended one hand towards her. “Friends?”

“Friends,” Leda agreed, taking his hand and shaking it.


	3. A Stolen Kiss

Weeks rolled by in a leisurely fashion. Leda and her friends studied their books, practiced their magic, and carried out duties for their respective enchanters under the watchful eyes of their Templar guardians. Every so often they managed to slip away to the Rift to escape their constant gaze and let off some steam. Those nights were their oasis, the only respite from the stress of their lives as mages locked away in a tower. They all cherished those nights, and each other, even though none of them ever said it aloud.

Several times Leda made time to spend a few hours or even whole afternoons in the library, sitting at the same table she had been studying at when that Templar boy had spoken to her. She never actually admitted it, not even to herself, but she was waiting there for him, hoping he’d return and speak to her again. One afternoon, she got her unspoken wish.

Leda walked towards the library, satchel laden with books and her mind elsewhere, calculating the rate of energy return on a new fire spell she was trying to compose, hoping to make it more efficient than the current accepted method. So of course she wasn’t watching where she was going.

She thumped into something hard and solid with her right side. Leda had been walking fast enough that the bump spun her around a bit, and her satchel, the strap already slipping off her shoulder from its burden, fell to the floor. Books, her quills, inkpots, and loose pages spilled out across the carpeted hallway. Leda looked down at the mess and groaned in frustration.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” a male voice asked her.

Leda looked up to the offender who had run her over with fire in her eyes. That fire died down – but only a little – when she saw the speaker: the handsome Templar from the library. Leda scowled at him.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, Curly?” she spat, angry enough that she forgot she probably shouldn’t speak that way to a Templar.

Curly flushed with embarrassment and stooped to begin picking up her things. “Cullen,” he said, his voice so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Cullen,” he said. “My name is Cullen.”

“Oh, I’m Leda, nice to meet you,” she replied, more out of reflex than anything.

“Leda,” Cullen repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He stacked her papers together and tapped them against to straighten the edges.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Leda snapped, embarrassed that she was making a fool of herself. “Don’t wear it out.”

Cullen’s blush deepened. “I’m sorry again, I don’t know what happened.” He held out the papers to her, somehow managing to communicate his apology with every movement.

Leda snatched the papers from him with a huff of annoyance and stuffed them into the front of one of her books. She gathered the rest of her things and shoved them back into her bag and then stood. “Excuse me, I was on my way to the library.”

Cullen hurriedly stood himself. “Oh, so was I. I will walk with you,” he said, then hesitated. “I mean, if that’s alright.”

Leda shrugged and turned away. “It makes no difference to me.” She set off at a quick walk.

“Leda, wait,” Cullen said. “I actually wanted to speak with you a moment, if you’ll let me.”

Leda turned to glance at him over her shoulder but didn’t slow her pace. “About what?”

“I, uh, I really like your drawings. Of the griffons, I mean,” Cullen stammered. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

Leda’s eyes widened. “How did you know those were mine? Where did you get them?” she snapped.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, I mean, I’ve been wanting to speak to you for a while, I mean…” He started out speaking in a rush, and then trailed off. Leda stopped and stared at him. Cullen wouldn’t meet her eye.

“What?”

“Ugh, this is all coming out wrong,” Cullen complained, almost to himself. He finally looked her in the eye. His cheeks were still flush with embarrassment but his eyes were serious. “I’m sorry, living with the Templars didn’t afford many chances to speak to girls.”

Leda nodded. “Okay.” She mentally kicked herself. “I mean to say, it’s alright. I haven’t had much opportunity in that area myself, obviously.”

“Right,” Cullen said. He cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, what I was _trying_ to express is that I…like you. I’d like to be friends.”

Leda arched an eyebrow. “Friends? With a mage?”

“Yes, actually,” Cullen said. “I think more Templars should be friends with mages. It would remind us that you are actually people, not just dangerous things to be locked away.”

Leda’s other eyebrow joined the first. “You…what?” She had never heard any Templar speak this way in her life.

Cullen nodded. “I know, not a popular opinion. But I do think it would help.”

Leda nodded slowly. _I’m losing my mind. This is a dream._ “Okay,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “For both our sakes, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say any of that. What you’re suggesting is dangerous, and I don’t need that kind of trouble.” She turned to continue down the hallway, which she noticed was curiously empty for this time of day.

“Wait!” Cullen cried out behind her. He grabbed her arm, gently, but with enough force to stop her. Leda spun around, ready to fight, but her cry of alarm and anger was muffled by his lips pressing against hers. Leda’s eyes widened in surprise. His mouth was firm, but gentle, just like the rest of him. It felt…nice. Despite having never been kissed before, and not having any idea what to do, Leda felt her eyes close and her lips move in time with is as she kissed him back. Her satchel slipped from her hand and dropped back to the floor.

Cullen felt her respond and moved one arm behind her back, pressing her closer to him. Leda balanced herself with one hand against his chest plate and kept kissing him. The kiss deepened, filled with more feeling than she would have expected. She got the impression he had been wanting to do this for a long time.

The moment seemed to last for ages, although it had to have been only a few seconds. Cullen pushed back from her suddenly. Apparently, his mind had caught up to what he had done on impulse. Leda staggered back, cheeks flushed and breathing hard.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have…Goodbye!” Cullen turned and ran in the opposite direction of the hallway, turning down a side corridor and disappearing from sight.

Leda pushed both hands back through her hair and tried to calm herself. _What the hell had that been about?_ She gathered up her things and rushed in the direction of her dormitory, trying very hard not to look supremely guilty.


	4. Trading Notes

The next day Cullen approached Leda while she was walking to class with Alisa. Leda’s eyes widened when she saw him, and she felt her ears twitch. She touched her lips gently with shaking fingers, the memory of last night’s indiscretion still fresh.

“Mistress Surana,” Cullen greeted her formally, his own cheeks slightly ruddy. “You left this in the library yesterday evening.” He held out a book to her.

Leda looked down at the book. It wasn’t one of hers, or one of the ones she’d been studying out of. It was a volume of Genetivi’s histories, one dealing with Grey Wardens. There was an embossed symbol of the Order on the front cover. A griffon.

“Um, I did?” Leda asked, uncertain what he was trying to do. Could this be a trap? She looked up into Cullen’s face. She didn’t sense any deception there, but his eyes were intense. Leda got the feeling that he desperately wanted her to play along. “Oh, yes, I did!” She exclaimed, hoping she was convincing. “Thank you, Ser.” She took the book from him and stowed it in her satchel.

Cullen bowed slightly and then turned away without another word. Leda watched him walk away.

Alisa nudged her with one elbow, breaking her stare. “What the hell was that?” she hissed, pulling Leda to one side.

Leda flapped a hand to silence her. “I will tell you later! We’re late!”

***

After lessons were finished for the day, Leda stole away to a quiet alcove in one of the hallways near the circle’s chapel. She pulled the book out of her satchel and opened it, looking for whatever she was sure Cullen had hidden for her to find. What other possible reason could he have for handing her a random book?

Or not so random, as she found flipping through the pages. This particular volume dealt with the history of the Grey Wardens in Blights long past, when they were still revered as a great and heroic Order and flew in to save the world on the backs of griffons. Leda flipped pages until she got to the chapter dealing exclusively with griffons (their training, their breeding, and notable acts of heroism), where she found what she was looking for: a small piece of paper, folded twice and nestled far into the spine of the book to prevent it from falling out. Leda tugged the paper out and unfolded it against the pages of the book, holding it up so that anyone passing would think she was simply studying history.

It was a letter, written in a slightly tremulous hand. He had apparently only had one piece of paper, and had not fully decided what to write when he’d started, because there were several words scribbled out or scratched through.

_~~My dear~~ _

_~~Mistress Sur~~ _

_L:_

_I am ~~very~~ genuinely sorry for my rudeness, and for my forwardness. ~~I hope you will forgive me.~~ I will not ask your forgiveness, for I do not deserve it. For one in my position to have forced himself upon you in such a fAliion is unacceptable, and I want to assure you it will not happen again. ~~I do not know what came over me~~ I only hope that we can remain friends, and put this behind us. Please leave your reply, if you have one, in this book at the same page, and leave the book in the library. I will find it. _

_Yours,_

Well, that was certainly interesting. Leda was grateful, however, that he seemed to feel the same way she did about the matter. It was dangerous territory to venture into, and she had her studies (and her upcoming Harrowing) to consider. Not to mention, she had heard of mages being made Tranquil or even killed outright for lesser offenses.

 

She pulled a scrap of paper out of another book and quickly wrote a simple reply:

 

_C:_

_Thank you. I accept._

Leda left the book where Cullen had asked her to, and hurried out of the library again before she saw him. While she wanted to put the incident behind them, Leda didn’t think she could face him again so soon.

 

***

 

“So what was up with hot-boy-Templar earlier?” Alisa asked in a hissed whisper. They were in the rift, and the boys were chattering to themselves. Leda blushed and covered her ears with her hair.

“Nothing!” she insisted. “He was just being nice.”

Alisa snorted. “Templars are not ‘just nice’ to mages. What gives?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Leda repeated.

“You don’t trust me,” Alisa said, voice flat. “After everything we’ve been through, and all the things we’ve put up with together…fine. Have it your way.”

“No, Alisa, it isn’t like that…” Leda trailed off, trying to think of a way to explain.

“But it _is_ like that, Leda,” Alisa retorted. “But if you don’t want to tell me, it’s your choice.”

Leda bit her lip, considering. “I’ll tell you. But I’m warning you, after I start you might not want me to finish. You won’t want to be involved.”

Alisa’s eyebrows raised. “With a warning like that, I definitely want to be involved.”

***

_L:_

_I love this theory of Genitivi’s re: griffons and their “extinction.” Maybe we should take a trip to the Anderfels to find out?_

_-C_

Leda snorted. She read the passage he had indicated on the page:

 _Many scholars and students of wildlife in Thedas agree: the griffons are likely_ not _completely extinct, as the Grey Wardens claim. Rather, it is much more likely that years of selective in-breeding left the remaining offspring somehow unfit for further use in battle, whether because of their lacking in size, intelligence, or some other defect. Why would the Grey Wardens lie about such a thing? Perhaps they want to preserve the dignity of the griffons, and prefer to leave Thedas with their glorious legends rather than expose what these-once proud creatures have become. It is the author’s belief that the Wardens are likely more concerned with their recruitment numbers, and therefore fear that public knowledge of the griffon’s decline at their hands would cause those numbers to suffer. Cynical, perhaps, but studying the history of the world will leave one in such a state._

An interesting passage to be sure, she thought, smiling. She turned the scrap of paper over and sketched a quick baby griffon, making its features more expressive than she normally would to convey its sadness.

_C:_

_As much as I would love to get out of this place (not to mention be able to have an_ actual _conversation with you, hmm?), such a trip would be impossible. And even if it were, would you want to see the poor baby griffons who can’t fly anymore?_

Leda drew an arrow from this sentence to point at the sketch.

_Anyway, if you want to take a vacation, maybe pick somewhere warmer? And closer?_

_-L_

“Whatcha doing?” Alisa’s sing-song voice said from behind her shoulder. Leda jumped in shock.

“Wha – you – don’t _do_ that!” she sputtered, snapped the book shut over her note.

Alisa giggled and skipped around the table to sit across from her. “Writing love notes to your boyfriend again?” she asked, leering at her and waggling her eyebrows.

Leda frowned at her. “Keep your voice down!” she hissed.

Alisa grinned wickedly, but lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’ve been trading notes with him for _months_ , what gives?”

Leda blushed. “Nothing ‘gives’,” she said, tone acerbic. “We’re friends.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Leda,” Alisa rolled her eyes.

“What?” Leda protested.

“Oh, nothing,” Alisa said, non-chalet. She pulled a book from her bag and opened it as if she was already moving on from the subject. “I’ve just seen the way he looks at you, is all.”

“What do you mean?” Leda asked, heart suddenly pounding. Fear, or something else? Probably fear. Yeah, that’s what she would go with.

Alisa eyed her over the top of her book. “Well…it’s certainly _friendly_ ,” she said, smirking. “But whatever helps you sleep at night, babe.”

Leda put her face into her hands and groaned. She hadn’t told Alisa about the … incident. She hadn’t dared. She trusted her friend, but if _anyone_ found out about that, or questioned Alisa or – Leda shuddered. She didn’t want to think about what Anders had told them about what happened on the lower levels.

Alisa’s brow furrowed in concern and she put her book aside. She reached out and took one of Leda’s hands in her own. “Leda, sorry, I was only teasing.” She cocked her head to one side as she considered. “You…you care about him, don’t you?”

Leda couldn’t answer, so she just looked into her friend’s warm hazel eyes. Alisa’s face softened in sympathy. “Oh, poor Leda,” she said quietly, squeezing her hand.

Leda squeezed back. “I don’t want to, Ali, I really don’t. We could both die for it.”

“Hmph, if that’s what stopping you, then I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“What? Ali, do you live in a different circle than I do?”

Alisa let out an indelicate snort. “No, but if you love him – even just a little – you should go for it. Circle be damned.”

Leda raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been hanging out with Anders too much.”

“Maybe, but he’s also kind of right, Leda. The Circles may have been a good idea way back when – they might still be, with some changes – but people aren’t meant to live like this,” Alisa said. Her seriousness was what caught Leda’s attention; it was not often that her friend stopped cracking jokes.

“You have a point, Ali, but there’s not anything we can do about it.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong!” Alisa said conspiratorially. “The thing Anders hasn’t figured out yet is that the small rebellions are the best ones.” She winked and squeezed Leda’s hand again.

Leda nodded, considering. “Well, then,” she said slowly. “What should I do?”


End file.
